Sidetracked Home
by Emerald Thorn
Summary: Nothing good can come of mixing dragon's blood and Draco Malfoy. Unfortunately for Harry he and Draco have a date with destiny.
1. Default Chapter

Title: Sidetracked Home –Prologue?

Author: Emerald Thorn

Rating: R eventually

Pairings: HPDM maybe others eventually

Genre: Humor, Romance, Drama (maybe), excuse to get Harry and Draco to do naughty things.

Author's Notes: er.... I don't know if I should continue onwards with this... I have semi-constructed a plot in my head but I don't know (is still debating fate of ficlet).

'You brilliant arsehole... look what you've gotten yourself into this time' Draco mentally berated himself as he watched a Death Eater prepare some sort of potion that they were planning on giving to him but hadn't told him what it would do to him. Rather ruined the fun in Draco's opinion but it seemed more and more that his opinion meant next to nothing with this particular crowd. 'Stupid Father... why do I always have to pay for his mistakes?' Draco asked himself, keeping up the mental one-sided dialogue to avoid focusing on the large amounts of pain he was in. 'One would think that after the Dark Lord came back Father would have realized that it wasn't a good idea to mess up but it was just one mistake after another until he finally landed his sorry arse in Azkaban and in order for his cronies and fellow henchmen to free him he promised me as Voldie's personal lab rat—eugh... Pettigrew. I refuse to compare myself to that cowardly little bastard. I think I actually am starting to feel sorry for Sirius Black.'

Draco's attention was drawn outward as he watched three big Death Eaters carrying a large vat of something. Something that smelled rather odd in Draco's opinion as his nose was assaulted by the smell of sweetness, evergreens, wind, sky, wilderness and rain. It was a rather large vat, the three bulky Death Eaters stumbling under the weight as they grappled and tugged the container into the large torture chamber that had been converted into holding cell for Draco combined with impromptu potions laboratory.

The biggest of the three gave a mighty "eugha!" as they sat the vat next to the large cauldron where Voldemort and two other Death Eaters had been working on the potion for the last two days in-between extracting Draco's blood which had then been put into the potion.

Needless to say, Draco was getting rather worried about just what they intended to do with the potion. The little he knew about potions involving blood was enough to scare a Hufflepuff to death, maybe even a Gryffindor. Wizard blood used in potions usually meant very, very bad things.

At least he hadn't seen his Father since the spineless shriveled bastard had drug him in front of his lord and given him as a thank you gift. The thought of seeing his father filled his head with every nasty curse or hex his Father had drilled into him as a young child and using them all at once.

The half-lusty, half-insane smile Voldemort had given him after Lucius left had doubled Draco's worries. Voldemort wasn't currently in the room, but Draco knew he'd be back. Voldemort had been the one to collect all the blood that had been taken. He'd rather enjoyed it and the memory of it made Draco feel as if he were about to take sick—even though he no longer had the energy left to do more than struggle slightly against his bonds when someone approached him. Even now, although he was being ignored, Draco's head leaned back against the wall, his arms pulled painfully tight to either side. Despite the coolness of the underground room, a light sheen of sweat covered his mostly nude body. The sweat mixed with blood from the numerous cuts and tinted his skin red. His modesty had been preserved only because Voldemort hadn't wanted anyone getting any ideas... which was another thing that seriously worried Draco.

There had been a lot of things to seriously worry Draco in the last two days.

The death eaters were now tilting the vat and slowly pouring a red colored liquid into the potion. Surprisingly, it didn't seem like there was any added volume to the potion as gallons and gallons were added to the much smaller cauldron. A fourth death eater had entered and was stirring the cauldron with a sword...a sword... and if Draco was not mistaken it was a silver sword.

It was time to leave the seriously worried behind and stick with overwhelming panic.

As the Death Eaters finished pouring in the red liquid there was a loud 'poof' noise and a red mushroom-shaped cloud erupted from the cauldron. All four Death Eaters scrambled backwards to avoid the cloud which dissipated in less than two seconds. Cautiously, the one holding the sword peered into the cauldron and announced "Almost done. Milord will want to add the final ingredient himself."

Draco fervently hoped he was NOT the final ingredient.

/ --------

Harry felt weird. There was no other way to describe it. He had practiced his occlumency before he had gone to bed the night before and still he had somehow connected with Voldemort. Normally this would have triggered a frantic note to someone but Harry was unsure what he would tell them. All he had sensed was anticipation and lust—which seriously worried Harry. He was now scarred for life. Voldemort and sex—ewww...

What was even more disgusting was the brief image of Draco Malfoy chained to a wall, bleeding and snarling as he tried to free himself. The look of hatred and disgust in the younger Malfoy's eyes had been aimed directly at Voldemort—or at least Harry assumed it was Voldemort. Even though Harry wasn't a huge fan of Malfoy, he didn't think that if what he suspected was happening was happening... Malfoy didn't deserve that sort of fate.

However, the more important question of debate this evening was if what Harry thought was a vision was actually a vision or a really messed up dream. And if it was a vision, what should he do about it? He really didn't know where Voldemort was and even if he did know he had no way of leaving the Dursleys without getting cited for underage use of magic.

What was a Boy Wonder to do?

So should I continue it or not?

Feedback please and I promise LLL will be updated again before the end of the week!


	2. Chapter one

Sidetracked Home: Chapter One

Author: Emerald Thorn

Rating: R

Genre: Drama, Romance (if I get around to it), generally bad Draco, and the humor didn't quite survive the seriousness of the plot this time (oh and don't forget the slash!).

Disclaimer: Not mine 

oOo

Draco wasn't surprised when Voldemort entered the room later that same day, or at least he assumed it was the same day since there not a lot of time had elapsed between appearances of the overgrown snake. Since they had proclaimed the potion 'almost done' the Death Eaters had left Draco alone to contemplate his fate and stare in suspicion at the cauldron that made hissing noises. Voldemort swept into the room in a bad impression of Snape and clapped his hands in delight over the potion with a whinny snigger before approaching Draco.

Draco eyed him defiantly and didn't flinch when Voldemort raised a hand to caress his face, the only movement he made was to spit in Voldemort's face. It was a brilliant move, the saliva hitting Voldemort right in-between the eyes and sliding down the ridge of the gnarly hook nose and hanging off the very tip. Voldemort retaliated instantly by slapping Draco hard enough to make his ears ring and his eyes water in protest despite his best efforts at showing no fear.

"That wasn't smart boy. I'll make you regret that when you are begging for my pleasure at my feet," Voldemort hissed as he invaded Draco's personal space almost enough to make even a seasoned Slytherin such as Draco squirm.

Draco didn't as much as twitch as he replied with a venom laced raspy whisper. "I'll never beg at your feet you disgusting piece of muddy pond scum." A whisper was all Draco could manage after having his throat turned raw from too many days without something to drink and trying to talk the idiotic minions into letting him go.

Voldemort smiled at Draco's reply, amused at the pretty youngling's attempt to stand up for himself despite his situation. "You may think so now but once I've completed this little experiment you will be my willing pet."

"I am not anyone's pet—least of all yours. I'd sooner slit my own throat than give you the pleasure. I see now why Potter is always beating you." Draco smiled as he said the last bit, his eyes gleaming madly as he snarled. He had decided the first night that if he was going to die he was going to be a pain in the ass on the way down. He was also going to make Voldemort regret this if it killed him. He was rapidly approaching the point where if he was an animal he would have gnawed off his own limb to get away.

Voldemort motioned over his shoulder for the Death Eaters that had been hovering at the door to come forward. "Pour the potion into the chalice," he ordered, his eyes never wavering from Draco's face as he again reached out to touch Draco. Draco didn't allow it a second time and bit down on the offending hand—hard enough to draw blood.

Yelping in surprise, Voldemort snatched his hand back and snarled at Draco who was rather pleased with himself and grinning viciously to show bloodstained teeth with madness showing in his eyes. "Yes you will be very sorry!"

Smile turning into his trademark smirk, Draco taunted Voldemort as loudly as he could manage. "You can't make me regret something I should have done long ago. I'm only sorry I didn't think of it sooner."

"Lucius," Voldemort said as he took a step back and his face went blank except for the blood red eyes that took on a coldly calculating cast. One of the Death Eaters that had entered with Voldemort came at his command. It was Draco's father—if one could still call their sire who betrayed them that. The man left his bone colored mask in place and bowed, the thick folds of the black material that made up the uniform robes contrasting brightly with the platinum blonde mane that cascaded with the bowed movement.

"Lucius, I want you to do the honors of collecting the final ingredient," Voldemort ordered, his thin colorless lips twitched into a gruesome imitation of a pleasant expression.

"As milord commands. Do you wish it collected via a spell or manually?" Draco's father's voice was emotionless. There was no indication that it was his son Lucius was referring to.

"Manually."

Lucius' head bobbed up and down in agreement and the long sleeves of the ebony robe pushed back. Draco refused to acknowledge his father's presence, his frosty glare pointed directly at Voldemort and his chin up and defiant. Out of the corner of his eye, Draco could make out some sort of collection vial being passed to Lucius from one of the unidentified Death Eaters but gave no indication he was aware of anything else in the room except for his enemy in front of him.

It was very hard to not shudder in disgust as his only scrap of clothing was cut away with a sharp knife that somehow managed not to cut his skin. Even colder than before, Draco tried to resist as his legs were spread shoulders width apart and the cold glass of the vial surrounded his flaccid cock and pressed tightly into his abdomen to create a semi-tight seal. When the purposeful touch to his entrance came, Draco tensed his muscles as tight as he could to deny his father's fingers entrance but he was defeated by a spell from his father that caused all the muscles in his lower body to go lax.

Shaking with effort to stay still, Draco fought his body's reaction as he began to stir and harden between his legs as his father's fingers found something within him that sent spikes of sensual excitement and pleasure through his exhausted and tortured body. Fighting his body's natural response, Draco bit his tongue and the bitter coppery taste of blood flooded his mouth as his father continued to work him.

When the inevitable came, Draco closed his eyes and refused to acknowledge that he had just been brought off by his father for Voldemort. The natural wave of relaxation that usually accompanied his release was stopped before it began by Voldemort's voice.

"You're very beautiful when you try to resist young Malfoy. I shall enjoy watching you grow big with my child. An heir such as you will bear me shall be magnificent—especially when he is grown enough for me to possess his body. And such a beautiful body you will gift me with. The beauty of the Malfoy's with my own power. I will once again be the most powerful wizard in the world."

Somehow scraping up enough remaining energy to open his eyes to half mast, Draco shot back the only insult he knew that would be enough to ensure a violent reaction. "You will never be more powerful than Harry Potter. He fights for reasons you cannot even begin to understand and hence you will always loose as you will never be able to strategize well enough to bring him down."

The reaction was immediate. A hand pockmarked with age spots and brittle nails surrounded Draco's neck blocking his airway. "I will defeat Potter and you will be brought to heel. It's such a shame that your venom has no power behind it or you might have made a decent opponent. Now you'll just be my broodmare."

Just before he lost consciousness again due to the current lack of oxygen Draco heard one last sharp command, "Add the final ingredient. I want his body prepared for infusion by midnight."

oOo

Several hours later, Harry was still curled up on his rickety bed in Surry as his body shuddered in horror as he watched events unfold. The vision of current events continued only by Harry's will, Voldemort was not aware for once that he was watching and listening in. Feeling wetness on his cheeks, Harry absently brushed away the tears that were falling from his eyes as he closed his eyes even more tightly and concentrated on staying hidden and continuing his observance.

Draco looked so helpless, his head hanging forward and slightly to the left as silver platinum hair that had been allowed to grow long over the last year was messily clinging to feverish skin. Before tonight, Harry could honestly say he hadn't really thought of how bad it was to be part of a Death Eater's family. Now, Harry only wanted to get Draco away from this depraved version of life. Nobody deserved what he had just seen, Harry could hardly believe that Lucius had followed Voldemort's orders with no signs of reluctance.

It was no wonder Draco acted as he did and Harry could not blame him for their past differences. You couldn't blame someone for how they grew up or their family, his own family a perfect example of circumstances. Harry couldn't believe the possessiveness he felt for Draco after Draco had told Voldemort that he would never beat him. Draco believed in him not Voldemort and that was quite possibly the most endearing thing Harry had heard in his short life.

From Voldemort flowed a sick sense of sexual anticipation and pleasure that Harry mentally filtered around him as he started to feel physically ill. Voldemort ordered that his bedroom be prepared with all the necessities and Harry had to bite his own tongue to keep from lashing out at the mad wizard via their mental link. Ideas of how to get Draco out of this mess flashed through Harry's mind, each more bogus and impossible than the one before. The truth was he had no clue where Voldemort currently was and there was no way of contacting the Order fast enough to mount a rescue attempt even if he did know where to go. From Voldemort's mind he was able to pick up the names of each of the individual Death Eaters that were milling about purposefully. To his rising horror he recognized three members of the Order but Snape wasn't there so there would be no help at least from that quarter. When Harry had last looked at the cracked digital display that was his only timepiece it had read 11:15 which had been at least fifteen minutes ago.

Time was running out for Draco and Harry had no way to help him. Harry told himself that when he defeated Voldemort he would try and free Draco from this prison that was imprisoning him and give whatever he could to the battered Slytherin.

Through his connection to Voldemort, Harry could only watch in horrified fascination as Draco's throat convulsed as the liquid forced its way down the scared and quickly transforming from defiance to defeat look in the young Slytherin's grey eyes made Harry's own heart ache at the suffering humility that Draco was enduring. When the entire contents of the goblet had been emptied down Draco's throat his mouth was roughly clamped shut and his nose pinched to make Draco swallow the last mouthful. Trapped inside the weird and convoluted mind of the Dark Lord, Harry felt almost physically ill himself at the emotions swirling around him.

When the Death Eaters removed their hands from Draco's head his entire body began to seize violently and the most pain filled scream Harry would ever hear was ripped from Draco's throat. The Dark Lord was gleeful—watching as changes began to quickly appear.

Draco's once fair skin bulged and retracted as his organs shifted within him before settling as glittering sapphire blue scales began to emerge on his legs, arms and sides as well as along the edges of his cheekbones and throat. Already well defined features became sharper as Draco's small ears lengthened and became pointed under his loose blonde hair that was becoming nearer to the actual color of gold as his remaining non-scale covered skin also darkened to a healthy tan as it discarded the paleness common to the wizarding aristocracy.

Draco's limbs and torso lengthened and there was noticeably more muscle forming across his upper arms and chest. As the process seemed to be ending, Draco's screams turned to shrieks as two new appendages ripped through his back, knocking away several Death Eaters who had been in the way. The new appendages were glorious in Harry's opinion. Iridescent sapphire and gold dragon wings stretched nearly three meters away from each shoulder, arching delicately as they flapped to cause a small windstorm before they fell limp as Draco began to loose consciousness. As his mouth opened to scream again, Harry saw the elongated canines drip with saliva or some other secretion. Too exhausted to scream again, Draco lost his tenuous grip on consciousness.

Voldemort was very pleased with the changes in Draco and Harry felt repulsed as Voldemort gave the order for Lucius to clean up his son and have his bed prepared. Realizing that with his attention no longer occupied Voldemort was more likely to notice his unwanted visitor; Harry concentrated on his own body and left just as Voldemort began contemplating the best way to use his new toy when he awoke first.

Landing with a jolt in his own body, Harry was drenched in nervous sweat but shivering from the coldness he could feel running through his mind after prolonged contact with Voldemort. Hedwig was cooing at him concernedly, her small feathered head tilted as she regarded the bizarre motions of her owner as he shook his head in an attempt to clear it from the haze that had not yet quite left him from Voldemort's mind.

"Dumbledore..." Harry said as he pulled his desk drawer completely out and grabbed a spare bit of parchment and a muggle ink pen he had accidentally taken from this nice lady at the garden center when he had gone with his Aunt to buy fertilizer for the lawn. Uncapping the pen, Harry quickly scribbled the necessary information down before signing it with his messy signature and hastily sealing it with a bit of wizarding sealer—the perfect addition to any young wizards summer correspondence kit. Opening Hedwig's door, he motioned with his hand as he called to her.

"Come on girl," he spoke as he tied the letter on her left leg, "I need you to take this to Dumbledore as quickly as you can. Don't let anything get in your way. We need to save his life." Hedwig seemed to understand his urgency and with a short, soft hoot and a rustle of feathers she was gone through the window and out into the sweltering summer night.

Harry fell back onto his bed, his temporary flurry of excitement exhausting him in the humidity. Looking at the digital alarm clock, he noticed it was almost midnight. Another few hours and Uncle Vernon would be pounding on his door telling him to move his lazy ass and start breakfast while he showered. Sometimes his life felt so surreal and disjointed. His sixth sense that told him danger was near was near howling for his attention yet he knew he needed to wait patiently for some form of reply from Dumbledore.

oOo

Draco awoke to full consciousness abruptly with no dulled transition from oblivion to awareness. He made no physically observable movements or changes in his breathing to alert the watchers that he was now alert. Taking inventory of his body, he made mental notes of which areas seemed different from normal. To his surprise his shoulders were the only body part that actually was in pain and he could tell there was now something extra around his shoulders. The most concerning signal his body was sending him was the warmth that had settled just beneath his skin. He felt overheated and knew that the light sheen of sweat on his body was not necessarily a good sign given what Voldemort had told him of his near future.

Still not opening his eyes, he used his other senses to try and gather as much information on his surroundings as possible. He was lying face down on a soft, cloth covered surface—probably a bed and the texture of the cloth and smell made the fabric silk—which would be slippery and both an advantage and disadvantage. None of his limbs were touching any other surface which indicated either the bed was fairly large or the space around him was uncluttered. His ears picked up two people breathing nearby but they were not moving or talking, one to his left and one by his feet which was slightly more nasal than the other. He could smell burning candle wax, indicating it was either still night or there were no windows to this room. He could also smell wine and he though fruit but was unsure as he was distracted by the faint stirring of air that lifted a few strands of his hair. Either an open door or a window was causing the slight breeze so there might be an avenue for escape.

He knew he didn't have much time before Voldemort would be back to torment him.

Tbc...

Response to reviews: (and since I'm lazy it's just a general response for right now)

Thanks to all who reviewed. This ended up coming a lot later than I originally thought it would due to my other story (which I should be posting more of later this week). I've got the general plot line hammered out so now the only problem is finding the time to sit down and type it out. I'm now back home with regular net service so I should be updating regularly... (think at least once a month but I'm aiming for at least two). Let me know what everyone thinks.

Btw... anyone willing to beta? Preferably someone with a really good command of English?


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